Something Borrowed
by Rochellu
Summary: She didn't notice, at first. Somehow- whether by some unseen force, divine intervention, or perhaps her own carelessness- it seemed that the wardrobe of Jirou Kyouka had gotten … smaller. Not significantly, but enough to reach the threshold of what Jirou determined to be strange. An investigation to find the culprit ensues.


**A/N:**  
tbh idk what this is, exactly . i have had the idea in my head for a few days now, but this drabble ended up being a lot longer and less concise than i initially expected. now it is 5am LOL. at least i had fun writing this - i hope you have fun reading it !

after a week or so long binge, i ran out of momojirou content as of like,, last night so this is my attempt to be the change i want to see in the world. this is my first time writing these characters so fingers crossed that i did them justice ! i love both positive and constructive feedback.

i will likely crosspost this on my main tumblr under the **same username** or my new art tumblr under **xtineillustration**

feel free to check either of them out or just say hey !

She didn't notice, at first.

Somehow- whether by some unseen force, divine intervention, or perhaps her own carelessness- it seemed that the wardrobe of Jirou Kyouka had gotten … smaller. Not significantly, but just reaching the threshold of what Jirou determined to be strange.

A few weeks ago, she misplaced one of her hoodies. At first, Jirou scolded herself silently for being so careless with her possessions. She blamed the transition into the dorm system. It isn't easy to transition from living in a two bedroom home to a communal space - most students in higher education could surely emphasize.

Then it was an oversized plaid flannel with sleeves that fell past her hands. Jirou mused that perhaps she left it in the girl's locker room since she remembered it being in her bag _before_ hero training, though it wasn't in her bag when she got back to her room or in her locker when she checked the next day. It was unlike her to leave anything lying around, let alone something she was particularly _fond_ of. Oh well. She shrugged it off - it was fine. Sooner or later, it would show up, and there would have been no use in worrying about it.

The alternative was that she was losing her mind. ...Nah.

Well.

Kaminari _had_ been bothering her late at night crying about dumb shit he found on the internet lately. There were a few times where she had to go over to his room to console him. Eventually, a rule was established that memes past midnight would have to wait until the next day, _the audacity._

Had the idiot finally caused her to snap? Had she reached her max threshold of absurdity?

 _Y'know_ , she mused, _it's probably more likely than one would think._

It had been two weeks since the disappearance of the flannel. Jirou hadn't spared it much thought, up until she tore apart her room looking for a band shirt ...only to turn up empty.

Nope. _Not_ happening. She drew the line at band merchandise. More specifically, band merchandise she had bought from local musicians. As in, _custom made and hard to replace_. The victim? A yellow t-shirt with anime characters screen printed in burgundy ink. Nothing special in itself, but special to her personally? _Yes._

Outside of school, Jirou knew several people involved with music at the local level. As an artist herself, she firmly believed in supporting other local artists and constantly would be depleting her savings account to fulfill the sacred duty of purchasing band merch. She was _obligated._ Misplacing personal items crafted with such care by her peers? _Unforgivable._

Jirou knew something wasn't right. She _would_ get to the bottom of this. Jirou had tried to work on homework to distract herself from her mounting annoyance, but her agitation physically felt like it was bubbling under the surface of her skin. It was distracting, exhausting, and all-consuming.

The hearing hero glanced at the analog clock on her wall. _5:52._ More than enough time to begin an investigation and still be able to return to her homework.

With a flourish, Jirou closed her literature textbook as she pushed herself off her stomach and into a sitting position her bed. Her maroon comforter shifted as she tossed her legs over the side of her bed and shuffled out of her room.

She stormed down the 3rd floor hallway, quickly taking a left and passing through a thick glass door to the boy's side. The dim hallway was illuminated by the motion-sensored fluorescent lights as she passed Koda's room and came to a screeching halt in front of the suspect's room. She loudly and impatiently rapped on the heavy door with the back of her knuckles, squinting suspiciously at the door as she heard the rustling of someone inside.

"I'm _coming_ , just-" the door swung open, sweatpants-clad Kaminari leaning on the doorframe. He blinked, corners of his mouth quirking into a smile. Until he realized Jirou was fuming. The lightning hero's mouth formed into a thin line as he uncomfortably scratched the back of his head.

"... _Heeeeeeey_. Wassup." Silence. "Did I… do... _something_?" he asked in a smaller voice, eyebrows knitting together. Jirou huffed, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know. _You_ tell me. A ton of my clothing has disappeared lately and you're in my room more than essentially _anyone_ else. I figured you may have taken to picking up souvenirs lately-" she started, before she was cut off by an indignant gasp. Kaminari clutched his chest, flinging the back of his right hand up to his forehead.

"I would _never._ Am I a mooch? Perhaps. Am I forgetful? Maybe so. But I wouldn't intentionally take your stuff without you knowing, man. Not to mention," he threw in a hair flip, "you're not my size anyways."

Jirou sighed. "Yeah, sorry, that was nothing personal. Just business. I couldn't come up with a good motive why you would take anything either. Except as an elaborate, slow-burn ruse to mess with my head." Kaminari nodded sagely.

"That would be something I would do, yes. But, y'know, to someone else. Not someone who wouldn't hesitate to murder me in my sleep." He paused. "What went missing?"

"A hoodie, a flannel, and a band shirt," she listed off, counting on her fingers. Kaminari whistled.

"Oof. Since we've moved in? Doubt that's a coincidence."

"I _know_. The sweatshirt went missing, I don't know, a month ago? Everyone was moving in and I assumed it all just got lost in the shuffle. I told myself when the flannel went missing that it would turn up eventually, because again, I could have left it in the common area or in the locker room or something. But one of my favorite _shirts_? Someone took that. I didn't just leave it in the locker room."

Silence. Followed by the same dawning realization at the same time.

"Mineta," she ground out between clenched teeth, fire flaring up behind her eyes. Kaminari shook his head, dragging his hand down his face.

"That little twerp," he sighed. "I can't imagine anyone else doing it to spite you, save for maybe Monoma, I don't know? But it wouldn't make sense for him to mess with you personally and that doesn't begin to cover how he would have gotten away with getting into the Class 1A dorms, let alone the 3rd floor girls' side-"

"It had to have been Mineta, that creep," she spat out. Her personal space now felt violated, she was now beyond _agitation_ and had reached _anger._ "I want my shit back."

 _kyouka is online._

[6:18:23] kyouka: hey, has anything of yours gone missing lately?

[6:22:03] yaomomo: ?

[6:22:17] yaomomo: Not that I know of. Why do you ask?

[6:22:58] kyouka: thank god

[6:23:08] kyouka: i think mineta took my shit . he dies tonight

[6:24:00] yaomomo: Oh no. Please don't do anything you would regret, Jirou-san.

[6:24:21] yaomomo: What are you going to do?

[6:25:12] kyouka: preferably something slow and painful

[6:25:40] yaomomo: Do you want to come over first?

[6:25:50] yaomomo: It's just easier to talk in person instead of text, don't you think?

[6:25:54] yaomomo: haha

[6:26:32] kyouka: yeah. you're right b

[6:26:41] kyouka: i'll be right there

Jirou felt her face heat up. Yaoyorozu was a great friend, a reliable ally, a voice of reason... and so cute and sweet it almost made her teeth hurt. Jirou definitely wouldn't pass up the opportunity to stop by her room and say hello, at least. The hearing hero tried her best to hold it together when it came to the other, but everything about Momo was nothing short of spectacular. Beauty, brain, and brawns… no one could deny it (and if they did, she'd beat some sense into them). Which is why she was quietly relieved Mineta chose to focus on her over the creation hero.

She couldn't help but frown, though. Back when Mineta had attempted to spy on the girls through a hole in the drywall between the locker rooms, Jirou was the only one he hadn't said anything distasteful about. Why would he focus in on her rather than prioritize another student? Maybe to seem less conspicuous, sure, but subtly wasn't _exactly_ Mineta's forte. Plus, just thinking about how he would drool over Yaoyorozu so openly and unabashedly in a public space made her blood boil. Screw that little grape shit. If he were guilty, it would give her a reason to get her retribution.

Minutes later, she found herself in front of Momo's room. Jirou would swing by now and then for a study session, but it wasn't like her friendship with Kaminari. They never just… _hung out_ in Momo's room one-on-one.

But, hey, ending up here of all places was not a bad problem to have.

She took a deep breath, rapping the door lightly with the back of her knuckles. _It's fine,_ she told herself. She was here to talk about the problem. Momo would talk her out of murder. She would settle on giving him a broken nose.

Not to kill him. Just to send a message.

The door cracked open, revealing the taller student in all of her glory. Yaoyorozu tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of her messy bun. She was wearing a white "Plus Ultra" tank top and black athletic shorts. Damn. Jirou couldn't comprehend how she looked so good at all times without _even trying._

She leaned against the doorframe, giving Momo a small, genuine smile.

"Hey, dude."

"Hello Jirou-san," the creation hero responded, stepping to the side. "Please, come in." Jirou obliged, slipping inside the vice president's space and plopping down on the edge of the absolutely massive bed. Momo really needed to switch that out for something that didn't take up three-fourths of her room.

"Yaomomo I just - I can't _stand_ that little weasel. My sweatshirt, a flannel, and one of my shirts are all missing and I'm sure he's the one who did it. "Jirou sighed deeply, turning to look at the other student. "I'm tired of how uncomfortable he makes us all feel and how he treats other people - _you_ , specifically. I don't know how you put up with it." Kyouka paused, gnawing on her lip thoughtfully before she continued.

"Don't get me wrong - it shouldn't have happened at all. But I'm just glad that something like this happened to me instead of to you, y'know?" Kyouka didn't miss how Yaoyorozu's eyes suddenly turned downcast from her spot in the doorway. "I would have called in the firing squad by now on your behalf."

"I… hardly think that is necessary," Momo responded softly, tucking another strand of black hair behind her ear. She made her way to the side of the bed where Kyouka was, tucking her legs underneath her as she settled down on the memory foam. Jirou scoffed in response.

"I don't think it would _begin_ to make up for what he's put you- I mean, _everyone_ through. He should really focus on being a decent human being before becoming a hero," she snorted, "I don't know why they don't just switch him out with that guy from General Studies. It's sad, really, how people assume he _might_ take advantage of others based solely off his quirk when Mineta _actively attempts_ to take advantage of the girls in our class on a daily basis and doesn't even deny it. No quirk needed. Just a shitty personality." She sighed. "I just can't believe he'd stoop to stealing my shit."

She stopped for a moment, noting the distinct discomfort on her friend's face. Normally, the Vice President was more open to her … _constructive criticism_ of their bratty classmate. Concerned, Jirou reached over and lightly grazed Momo's knee with her fingertips to get her attention. Her skin was flawless, and so _soft_ -

"Hey. Are you okay?" The girl jerked at the touch, causing the hearing hero to withdraw her hand in surprise. Momo flinched at Jirou's reaction, and immediately shook her head profusely as if to shake herself out of a trance- but, hey, now she was making eye contact.

"S-sorry. I just … got distracted." Jirou's eyes softened at this answer. Man, she had really come in here just to complain and hadn't even bothered to let Momo have a word in edgewise, had she? She didn't even ask how her day was before she launched into her rant. Some friend she was.

"No, don't apologize, Yaomomo. I was really going on a tangent there. Are you doing okay? Is something wrong?" The creation hero hesitated.

"Nevermind me. What makes you think it was Mineta and not someone else?" Jirou blinked. It was unlike Yaoyorozu to brush her off like that. Something must really be eating away at her.

The hearing hero felt a pang in her chest at the thought that Momo, whom she trusted and admired so much, may not want to share with her, especially when she was going on about her own problems to such an extent. She knew she couldn't take such things personally - if Yaomomo wanted to share, she would, and when she was ready. Jirou would respect that.

But still… Kyouka couldn't help but feel a little guilty about going on in length about her problems like this and have it not be an equivalent tradeoff.

"I don't know who else it would be," Jirou admitted. "I didn't think Mineta had much interest in me, and I already rattled Kaminari's cage - he's clueness."

The vice president was silent for a long time, looking like she was having some sort of… existential crisis? Or something. Her eyes were wide and she was staring off into space. Despite Yaoyorozu being the one to invite her over, maybe now wasn't a good time.

"Yaomomo, thank you for your hospitality, but it's okay if you want to talk another time. I'm sure I interrupted your studying and I," the hearing hero made a show of cracking her knuckles, tossing a confident smirk the other student's way, "have a problem to take care of." As she started getting to her feet, a hand deftly caught her wrist and tugged her back onto the bed.

"Wait."

Jirou's head snapped back towards the creation hero in surprise, eyebrows flying to her hairline. Momo wouldn't meet her eyes. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she intensely studied the intricate patterns on the wooden floor. Jirou tried _so hard_ to not stare at her lips, how the yellow glow from her bedside lamp reflected off the lip gloss Momo had applied and how the light glistened across the surface of her lips _every time_ she moved, and it reminded her of how the morning dew reflected the sun's rays in the early hours of morni-

"I have something to say as Vice President to Class 1-A, an aspiring hero, and … and as your friend," she began, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Jirou was lost. Was Yaomomo about to stop her from beating Mineta to a pulp? It would make sense. Physically accosting a fellow classmate probably was not a recommended course of action, even if they were a lying, stealing little lowlife-

"It was me. No one else. I took your belongings."

Jirou's jaw hit the floor as she gawked at her beautiful classmate, who shifted uncomfortably under her stare. Was she losing her mind? Was her hearing failing her?

That … would be really bad for a sound-based quirk, actually. Hopefully it was the former and not the latter.

"But… but _why_?" Jirou finally choked out.

Yaoyorozu flushed. "I-" her voice cracked, "I… don't know how it happened. I meant to give them back, I - I don't… I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner and put you through all of this speculation and inconvenience," her head hung low as she continued in a smaller voice, "I understand if you are disappointed in me, as you should be."

Kyouka blinked. Once. Twice. And then began laughing. Hysterically.

"I… am so confused," she choked out between laughs, "Y-Yao-Yaomomo, you can stop pulling my leg. It's okay. If you don't want me to throttle the little grape man, you can just say so."

"Don't laugh! I'm being honest," Yaoyorozu huffed, immediately rising to her feet and marching over to her dresser. She flung the second drawer from the bottom open, gathered up bundled fabric in her arms, and tossed the heap at the hearing hero.

A slate gray sweatshirt with the name of a ski resort emblazoned on the back, a men's plaid green and brown flannel shirt, a yellow band tee screenprinted with burgundy ink. Everything was here. A temporary surge of relief flooded through her, but it was immediately wiped out by her speechlessness.

Why… did Yaomomo… _have_ these? She was sure there was a perfectly good reason, but why had she been so hesitant to tell her?

"You left the sweatshirt in the common area after a movie night. I borrowed the flannel from you on the way to the dorms one day after Iida accidentally dumped water all over my uniform shirt. And I found the shirt in the laundry room - that, I actually did wrangle away from Mineta," she murmured, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand.

Wow. So it really had been some carelessness on her behalf, huh? And she _does_ remember now: in the brief time it took to walk from class to the dorms one particularly chilly day, Bakugo had shoved Iida, for some reason or another, and in turn, both he and the water he was drinking had unintentionally been projectile-launched at the creation hero. Her white shirt having been thoroughly soiled, Jirou didn't spare a moment in wrestling the flannel out of her backpack. She had thrown it over Momo to shield her sopping wet shirt from outside observers and protect her from the wind's harsh bite. Momo had quietly murmured a gracious thanks for her chivalry, squeezing Jirou's shoulder - her touch lingering. Jirou had felt like she was going to explode to the point of putting Bakugou to shame. How did she manage to forget _that_?

"Aw, geez, I didn't realize I was so forgetful," Jirou admitted, rubbing her arm sheepishly. "I need to be more careful from now on. But what I don't get is why you waited so long to give them back? I mean, obviously _I_ would understand if you forgot considering this situation, but you don't need to be embarrassed about that! Is that what happened?"

A long silence.

"No."

It was mumbled, but Jirou picked up on it clear as day. Before she could even open her mouth to answer, Momo shuffled back to the bed and threw herself into the mountain of throw pillows stacked at the head of her mattress.

"I'm so sorry. I… don't know what's _wrong_ with me. I should have asked before I held onto anything of yours. But a-after Kamino Ward when I couldn't get to you faster than the gas, and you didn't wake up immediately… then rescuing Bakugo and moving into the dorms immediately after… it all happened so _fast_. I realized how quickly something so dear to me could be taken away." Momo met her eyes for an unwavering moment, Jirou's breath hitching before the class representative looked away again. "I found your sweatshirt after we watched that movie together as a class on the third night and I was going to give it back the next day, but then it just felt made me feel so _secure_ -" she stopped mid sentence, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

" _No._ No excuses. I shouldn't have hoarded anything of yours, I shouldn't have kept it from you, and I shouldn't have let another classmate almost take the fall for my selfishness. I really am so sorry, I am just as pathetic as-"

Jirou practically launched herself at Momo, snatching her hands in between her own. Her cheeks were tinted pink and she was dead set on reassuring her classmate that everything was just fine. She couldn't blame Yaomomo for not wanting to admit the reason she held onto them for so long- hell, Jirou would be embarrassed, too!

"No, you aren't. You had every right to be shaken up. If they provided you any comfort at all," Jirou's cheeks darkened a little at the thought of being the one to make Momo feel _safe_ , even if it wasn't herself directly, "then they were better off with you for now than in my closet. Forget about all of that superficial shit I said before. I was just salty because I thought that cretin had something to do with it," she bit out the insult with distaste. She wouldn't forget that he had tried to get his tiny mitts on something of hers despite this turn of events, according to Momo. She no longer felt slightly bad for initially jumping to conclusions about the situation. That's one thing she _wouldn't_ forget.

"Yaomomo," she continued, curiosity seeping into her voice, "If the reminder is what helped you, then why didn't you just create replicas of my clothing and then return the originals? Not that I mind, by any means." The question caused Momo to force herself into a sitting position, and she bit her lip- still not looking at the hearing hero.

Was she… _blushing_? Jirou almost jumped out of her skin when Momo focused her intense gaze on her. As if by some strange, additional quirk Momo had, it held Kyouka in place.

"It wouldn't have been the same. They wouldn't have been _yours._ It just wouldn't have felt like you were here with me," her voice got smaller as she trailed off, "You mean so much to me."

Jirou isn't one to be flustered easily. She prides herself in her levelheaded, clear thinking, her sometimes aloof personality, and cool demeanor. Jirou Kyouka typically holds it together and remains calm in the face of adversity.

However, Yaoyorozu Momo admitting that Jirou was _this_ important to her? This situation was an absolute outlier. This was not within the realm of possibilities she had planned for. Punting Mineta out of orbit seemed like a breeze compared to this. Kyouka was completely caught off guard - how does one read this situation? Yaomomo is such a genuine person that she wouldn't have much difficulty imagining this situation between her and Todoroki but _Jirou doesn't want to think that_ , it could be interpreted as a Momo's confession of hidden feelings for _her-_ Kyouka's thoughts halted abruptly as she turned at least twenty shades of red. Momo noticed and buried her head in her hands, shaking her head.

"Jirou-san, I- I don't know what else to _say_ this is so _embarrassing_ -" Jirou, for a second time that night, might as well as have tackled the other girl. She embraced her in a tight embrace, tears stinging her eyes.

"You don't need to say anything else," Kyouka whispered, burying her head in the crook between Momo's neck and shoulder. She felt the creation hero's arms tighten around her waist in a vice grip, threatening to never let go. The other girl's hair was slightly damp, the scent of jasmine and lime shampoo slowly engulfing her in their own tender embrace. Kyouka breathed in deeply, content with this moment.

She could feel her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears, but she could pick up on Yaoyorozu's, as well. Her heart was thudding so hard that it almost made Jirou wince. Why was she, _perfect wonderful Momo_ , so nervous around her? Jirou started to pull away, but the creation hero pulled her back so that their foreheads were pressed together. Momo's eyes were glued to her lips, her breath hot and Jirou knew the answers to all of the questions she had up until, like, _ten seconds ago-_

Jirou wrapped her hand around the back of Yaoyorozu's neck and closed the gap between them. Sharing this moment with Momo - the genius at the top of the class, the heiress of the Yaoyorozu family, the most beautiful and considerate girl she knew, and her closest friend and confidant - was softer, quieter, and more fulfilling than anything Jirou had ever imagined. It was as if an intense and mounting percussion solo at a hundred and sixty beats a minute, thick with pounding bass and highlighted by the ripples of a crash cymbal immediately transitioned into slow, long chords on guitar accompanied by a quiet and comforting melody on piano.

Unreal. How long had this tension and desire been mounting between them?

Pulling away, Jirou made eye contact with the other girl, who was flushed a deep red. The dim light from her lamp washed the room in a yellow glow, long and dark contrasting shadows stretching across the room. The lamp, blocked by Momo's head, caused it to appear as if she had a halo crafted out of light framing her face. Jirou was genuinely moved, sometimes, by how beautiful Momo really was. Her lips were parted, _the diligently-applied spearmint lipgloss smeared haphazardly across them both now_ , and while she clearly wanted to say something, but no words came out of Momo's mouth. Kyouka snickered behind her hand, knowing full-well that she likely looked just as dazed as her companion.

"Well, I do have some good news for you, Yaomomo," she murmured, tracing Yaoyorozu's shoulder with her thumb, her touch as light as a feather. The other girl shuddered, but her dark and intense eyes stared unwavering into her own.

"Your wardrobe just doubled."


End file.
